


All Things That Are Red

by WrightsBadLee



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angst, M/M, Marvin is an artist, Period-Typical Homophobia, Whizzer and Marvin in high school, Whizzer has always been a singer, an explanation to why marvin is an asshole, and unlike, im ugly, please roast me down in the comments down below, why the fuck did i do that?!?!?!?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 09:46:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19148542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrightsBadLee/pseuds/WrightsBadLee
Summary: Marvin would've probably been dead without Whizzer long ago.He wished he could say the same about him.(Marvin and Whizzer in highschool in the 40s. Original Falsettos universe except that they knew each other in high school.)





	All Things That Are Red

Marvin did not always lack an eye for beauty. He could admire art, and that was one clue. The other clue was the drawings deeply hidden in his possessions. His drawings weren't really finished, and he barely drew people. He sketched flowers, fields and organic matter but he was always intimidated by the human form. Humans were complicated, not just the anatomy but the expression. Expressive but not harsh. Complicated not without its own version of subtlety. No slope too extreme, no detail too random but also too structured and it was all very scary. In fact, throughout his life, he'd only drawn one person. It was a piece that he put a lot of hard work in, he recalled. It paid off, it was one of his most beautiful pieces, and many had complimented it. Even more so, they questioned the subject matter.

In high school, Marvin didn't have a lot of friends. He was lanky, and a type of mysterious that wasn't cool, it was boring. The girls would pass by him in their big puffy skirts and tiny waists and giggle at him. The greaser boys would corner him and pound him for no reason he could tell. His parents saw him bruised and blooded every afternoon but they weren't kind either. They berated him about being a coward. Marvin wouldn't get upset. He couldn't get upset. His father would hit him if he did. 

It was a sunny afternoon at school, when it happened. He sat alone under a tree, and drew. He drew a tiny ladybug on a dandelion and sounded out the world. Still, he sensed somebody walking towards him and involuntarily flinched and backed away as they came face to face. "Hey, sorry for scaring you." A softer masculine voice said. He finally looked up and to his gratitude, it wasn't any of the greasers. "Yeah." Was all Marvin replied. The boy smiled. "Mind if I sit here and practice?" He asked and gestured to the guitar on his hand. Marvin was a little confused but nodded.

Annoyingly, this boy was a chatter. He looked over to Marvin's sketchpad and uttered out a breathless wow. Marvin's creations always tended to be very vibrant, and it was one of the very few things he took pride in. "How long have you been drawing?" The boy asked. Marvin decided he didn't like being interviewed, or talked to, but at least somebody liked his drawings apart from him now. "All my life." It was a simple answer, but it was genuine, and a longer sentence than anything Marvin was used to forming in conversations. "Cool." The boy said and thankfully seemed to notice that Marvin didn't like to talk.

He began singing softly. The sound of his guitar accompanied him.

_"All things that are red,_  
All things that would get  
your attention is bright and warm and wonderful.  
Oh, it would heal your hurts." 

Marvin has never heard of this song before. The boy sang with an ease and glint in his eye, and Marvin was compelled to ask him: "Did you write this?" The boy paused and Marvin felt a little bad that he had to stop for him. Still, the stranger grinned. "Yes! I write songs." He exclaimed. "I'm Whizzer, by the way." He said and stuck his hand out. Marvin shook it, a slight blush on his face. "I'm Marvin." He reciprocated and put his sketchbook down. His drawing was finished. Dusk was creeping in slowly and turned the sky into a multitude of colors. Marvin wished he knew how to paint and not just use crayon pencils. "Well, Marvin." Whizzer said and picked up the drawing to inspect it. "You've got quite the talent." Marvin turned to look at him now, and Whizzer was tracing the paper with his finger. His guitar lying, forgotten, on the grass. "Thanks." He smiled. "Your song is pretty."

Whizzer looked at him sideways and then bursted into laughter. "What?" Marvin grew nervous, and red. Whizzer calmed. "No, it's just-- Nobody's ever told me my song was pretty." He admitted, and Marvin looked away embarrassed. "Hey," He continued, and brought a hand on Marvin's shoulder. "It's alright. I like pretty."

When Marvin turned to look at him again, his heart leaped up. Whizzer was looking straight at him, with such earnest, kind eyes Marvin almost felt like he didn't deserve it.

Whizzer observed Marvin had the most gorgeous shade of blue in his eyes.

"I like pretty, too." Marvin confessed.

As the two walked home, Whizzer finished his song.

_"All things that are red,_  
They glow and love and ponder.  
Though they never dwell,  
if you'd ask them nicely,  
they'll love you as well." 

He and Marvin were alone in the streets, and when he finished his song, they'd joke. Marvin liked how Whizzer laughed. 

From then on, they met under that same tree everyday during lunch and dismissal of classes. Sometimes, Whizzer would write songs about the things Marvin drew. All of his songs were beautiful to Marvin.

It was two years later when Marvin drew Whizzer. It was a candid sketch of him just singing, eyes closed and head raised up to the sky. The sun rays touched his face and he looked ethereal. That drawing gathered a lot of attention when Whizzer decided to put it in his locker. With it, brought adoration from Marvin's female students (and a lot of commissions), but also bullies saying he was queer.

Whizzer found him in the boys' rest room one afternoon, bloodied and unconscious. He had to carry him to the nurse's office but when he found that they'd left early, he had to take him to his house. His mother was kind enough to treat him, even let him stay the night. It would surely make his father give him the appropriate cruel punishment the next day, but for now, he didn't know that. Marvin was still unconscious, and Whizzer was distressed. He'd found him with "Queer" written on his arm in permanent marker. He and his mom eventually got it off, but the skin was red from where it used to be. He felt somehow responsible for this. Whizzer was a closetted homosexual, and he was blessed he didn't apparently come off as queer to any of his classmates. Marvin had always seemed like an easy target. 

Whizzer sang to him, his favorite verse from any of Whizzer's songs and wished he'd wake up now.

_"All things like passion,_  
All things like art  
that come from the heart.  
They'd smile when they're apart." 

Marvin wasn't smiling now. Marvin wasn't sure if he could ever even laugh again because there wouldn't be any songs anymore-- Whizzer wouldn't be there anymore. The only pieces of art there would be was the old drawings he'd found in Whizzer's belongings in their shared apartment. Whizzer had kept his sketchbook. He recalled that he gave it to him when they were about to move away after two years of being friends. They saw each other again in New York when they were adults, and he was married to Trina and had Jason. He gave up everything for Whizzer. To be anything like a fraction of the calm, creative young boy he was, but he wasn't. He was repressed, and now he was an asshole, and god fucking damnit Whizzer deserved so much more than him.

Whizzer came back to him. They were happy, for a while.

Now, he was gone.

He was never coming back.

The only thing Marvin had of him was his things, and even that was his own, in a past life. 

Marvin couldn't keep the tears from falling on the paper. He missed him so much. He needed him.

_"All things that are red,_  
All things that are red,  
They've always been there from the start." 

Marvin finished Whizzer's song in a broken voice, inconsolable.

**Author's Note:**

> hate that for me  
> hate that for you  
> roast me fellas


End file.
